


Pendulum

by Resmiranda



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Feels, Growing Apart, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 00:52:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16692238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resmiranda/pseuds/Resmiranda
Summary: I always thought Shepard and I would live happily ever after.You always thought you and Shepard would live happily ever after.Kaidan had always thought he and Shepard would live happily ever after.The same story, told from 1st, 2nd, and 3rd person. Read them all, or read your favorite. I recommend 2nd - it's what I originally wrote the story in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration taken mainly from [The Other by Lauv](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HNjX6o7t6NU) and mildy from [Happier by Marshmello ft. Bastille](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RE87rQkXdNw).

I always thought Shepard and I would live happily ever after.

We’d saved the universe, damn it. Headlines had boasted from every media source:  _ ‘Unpresidented Galactic Peace.’  _ There were probably still a few articles archived on my omni-tool. I used to save every image of John I came across on the extranet.

I wonder when I stopped.

I hear him shift and I turn just enough to look at him, heart swelling. I still love him. We’d been through hell together, and not even death had been enough to break our bond. I really thought it was invincible.

Lately… I’m not so sure.

He rolls around to face me, and smiles. Crows feet appear at the corners of his eyes and it tugs at my heart. He’s every bit as handsome as the day I met him. Maybe moreso. Time looks good on him. Still every bit the chiseled Soldier™, but aged like a fine whiskey. My fingers ache to touch him, so I do.

His cheek is warm. Shepard has never run quite as hot as me, but he was always warm. I’d only ever felt him cold once—in the hospital after he was recovered from the wreckage of the Citadel. I didn’t touch him again. Not until I knew he’d be warm again.

I watch him as he wakes up. The smile slips from his lips and the light drains from his eyes, leaving something contemplative in its wake.

I feel like a slab of rock has been dropped on my chest.

I stroke his cheek with a numb thumb and strain to move against the invisible weight compressing my lungs so I can sit up and kiss him. His lips are warm and pliant. That had never changed, at least. I could get lost here, if I left myself. But I haven’t retired yet, and I have a meeting with Hackett in an hour.

I can’t look him in the eye as I withdraw.

∆

I get through the day. Work is always a good distraction from the thoughts buzzing at the back of my brain. It isn’t even until I’m halfway through a meal I’ve shuffled around more than eaten that I start thinking about it again.

“Are you okay, Kaidan?” The affectionate concern warming his voice sends sickness churning through my gut.

“Yeah, just—” I couldn’t say I wasn’t hungry. I was always hungry, and John damn well knew it. “—my head hurts.”

It wasn’t a lie. My head was on fire.

I wished it was a migraine.

John’s brow furrowed. It twisted my stomach. I’m reminded of why I’ve been thinking of leaving.

All the slipping smiles and stilted laughter. The stale familiarity of routine. The glances that speak volumes our lips cannot.

It wasn’t fair to Shepard. It wasn’t fair to  _ me. _

_ But I  _ love him.

I remember with crystalline clarity what it was like to live without him. It felt like I stopped breathing when he did, and didn’t start again until I saw him on Horizon. I took a deep breath and spewed out venom.

Things hadn’t been that bad in a long time. But  _ not bad  _ didn’t make them  _ good. _

“Do you want to go lay down?”

“I think I’ll take a shower.”

His frown deepened. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, wilco,” I respond with a half-hearted attempt at humor. He smiles for a fraction of a second.

Then it’s gone.

I stand up and scrape my uneaten food into the disposal.

∆

Ice hits my face and slithers down my body.

“Shepard.”

My voice, barely more than a whisper over the water, slides into a different octave. I clear my throat and try again, but this time it comes out too low to compensate:

“Shepard.”

I could have laughed at myself for sounding like Wrex had I been practicing any other speech. Instead, the words seem to stall there. I reach to torque the temperature control a little more, just to give myself something to do, but it’s already on the lowest setting. I stick my face back into the spray and rub my palms against swollen eyelids. If I can’t say it to my damn self, I’ll never say it to Shepard.

“I think I should leave.”

I can imagine the perplexed look he’ll give me.

“You’re not happy. I want the best for you and… and I don’t think I’m it anymore.”

My breath stutters and hitches through the sentence, not helped by the cold finally overcoming my natural heat and seeping into my bones. 

I can imagine the look of crushing hurt in John’s eyes. It’s so much worse than Horizon.

I’m shaking.

I give in and turn the temperature up.

∆

Once, I asked Shepard’s mom how she knew things were over with John’s father. She said when a relationship has run its course, you just know. I hadn’t understood what she meant then. I really wish I still didn’t.

Now’s not a good time to talk about it. But it’s never a good time. I always find an excuse, and I have to stop it. I have to get it over with. Fast and brutal. Like ripping a piece of model ship that got glued to my fingers by mistake off.

Shepard’s servicing his favorite weapon. I quietly watch his hands work, so steady and sure. Just like he does everything—with intent and confidence. Those fingers have taken me apart countless times.

I have to do this when he’s too far to touch me. If he gets his hands on me, I will lose every ounce of strength to see this through.

“Shepard...” The word starts out strong and dies halfway out. His head turns. His eyes lock onto me. My chest burns.

I say nothing.

His eyebrows wrinkle. “Is everything okay?”

_ No _ . The word hovers in my throat, ready for a puff of air to propel it into existence.

It feels like the room is holding its breath. It’s probably just me.

I exhale.

“Yeah. Sorry. Forgot what I was going to say.”

He looks at me skeptically. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Peachy-keen.”

He smiles at me and turns back to his gun.

Guilt claws through my insides.

I need to make up my damn mind.

∆

_ ”Fuck,”  _ he gasps, collapsing against me.

Warm lips envelop my own. I hum against them, still tingling and loose from head to toe. The wet tip of a tongue breaches my lips and I welcome it, lightly sucking on the intrusion, drinking in his flavor.

The kiss slows and breaks. He nestles his head in the crook of my neck. I can feel the wash of warm and cool air as he breathes.

I close my eyes and think about the last few minutes. Then further back. I think about every time I’ve had him, and every time I haven’t.

I hunger for Shepard in a way I have no other being. He’s a much a part of me as my own limbs are.

But I can’t ignore the hollowness in every interaction with him anymore. It’s choking both of us, even if he won’t say anything. I love him too much to let this go on any longer.

There was a big difference between wishing and knowing something. I know too well now that wishes can’t sustain us much longer.

Soft pressure meets my neck.

“I can hear you thinking,” he sleepily slurs. “Shut up.”

I chuckle. It’s genuine.

“Sorry.”

I drop a kiss on his head and relax into his familiar embrace.

Maybe not yet.

Just one more night.


	2. Chapter 2

You always thought you and Shepard would live happily ever after.

You’d saved the universe, damn it. Headlines boasted from every media source: _‘Unpresidented Galactic Peace.’_ You probably still have a few articles saved on your omni-tool. There was a time when you saved every image of John you came across on the extranet.

You wonder when you stopped.

The body on the bed next to you is the man you love. You’ve been through hell together. Nothing, not even death was able to break your bond. You thought it was invincible.

Now you’re not so sure.

He rolls around to face you. He smiles. Crows feet appear at the corners of his eyes and it tugs on your heartstrings. He is just as handsome as the day you met him. Maybe moreso. Time has not softened his physique. Soldier™ is too strong in his blood to let himself go.

You ache to touch him, so you do.

His cheek where your palm cups it is warm. He’s never run quite as hot as you, but always warm. You’ve only felt him be cold once—in the hospital after he was recovered from the wreckage of the Citadel. You didn’t touch him again until he woke up. Until he was warm again.

You see the moment he really wakes up. The smile slips from his lips and the light drains from his eyes, leaving something somber and contemplative in its wake.

It feels like a slab of rock has been laid on your chest.

You stroke his cheek with your thumb and strain to move the invisible weight compressing your lungs in order to sit up and kiss him. His lips are warm and pliant. That never changed, at least. You could get lost here, if you let yourself. But you aren’t quite retired yet, and you have a meeting with Counselor Hackett in an hour.

You don’t meet Shepard’s eyes as you pull away.

∆

You get through the day. Work is a good distraction from the thoughts buzzing at the back of your brain. It isn’t until you’re home for the evening and halfway through a meal you’ve shuffled around more than eaten that you start thinking about it again.

“Are you okay, Kaidan?” The affectionate concern warming his voice is almost too much for you.

“Yeah, just—” You couldn’t say you weren’t hungry. You were always hungry, and John knew it. “—my head hurts.”

It wasn’t a lie. Your head is on fire.

You wish it was a migraine.

John’s brow furrows. It twists your stomach. You’re reminded of why you’ve been thinking of leaving.

The slipping smiles and stilted laughter. The stale familiarity of routine. The glances that speak volumes your lips cannot.

It isn’t fair to Shepard. It isn’t fair to _you_.

But you _love him._

You remember what it was like to live without him. You stopped breathing when he did, and you didn’t start again until you saw him on Horizon. You took a deep breath and spewed out venom.

Things haven’t been that bad in a long time. But _not bad_ didn’t make _good._

“Do you want to go lay down?”

“I think I’ll take a shower.”

His frown deepens. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, wilco,” you respond with half-hearted humor. It turns his lips up for a fraction of a moment.

Then it’s gone.

You stand up and scrape your uneaten food into the disposal.

∆

Ice hits your face and slithers down your body.

“Shepard.”

Your voice, barely loud enough that you can hear it over the water, slides into a different octave and you have to clear your throat and try again, voice too low to compensate:

“Shepard.”

You could have laughed at yourself for sounding like Wrex, had you been practicing any other speech. Instead, the words seem to stall there. You reach towards the temperature control to give yourself something to do, but it’s already on the lowest setting. You stick your face back in the spray and rub your palms across your swollen eyelids. If you can’t say it by yourself you’ll never say it to Shepard.

“I think I should leave.”

You can imagine the perplexed expression he will give you.

“You’re not happy. I want the best for you, and… and I just don’t think I’m it anymore.”

Your breath stutters and hitches through the sentence, not helped by the cold that has finally subdued your natural heat and chilled your bones.

You can see the look of crushing hurt in John’s eyes, so much worse than Horizon.

You’re shaking.

You relent and turn the temperature up.

∆

You once asked Shepard’s mom how she knew things were over with John’s father. She said when a relationship has run its course, you just know. You hadn’t understood what she meant at the time. You wish you didn’t know now.

It’s not a good time. It’s never a good time. You always find an excuse. You have to stop that. Fast and brutal. Like ripping off the piece of ship that accidentally got glued to your fingers when you helped him with his models.

He’s servicing his favorite weapon. You quietly watch his hands work, so steady and sure. Just like he does everything. With intent and absolute confidence. Those fingers have taken you apart countless times.

You have to do this when he’s too far to touch you. If he does you will lose every ounce of strength to see this through.

“Shepard...” The word starts out strong and dies halfway out. His head turns. His eyes lock onto you. Your chest burns.

You don’t say anything.

His eyebrows wrinkle. “Is everything okay?”

 _No_. The word hovers in your throat, ready to be propelled into existence.

It feels like the world is holding its breath. It’s probably just you.

You exhale.

“Yeah. Sorry. Forgot what I was going to say.”

He looks at you skeptically. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Peachy-keen.”

He smiles at you and turns back to his gun.

Guilt claws its way through your insides.

You need to make up your damn mind.

∆

 _”Fuck,”_ he gasps, collapsing against you.

Warm lips envelop your own. You hum against them, still tingling and loose from head to toe. The wet tip of a tongue breaches the seam of your lips and you welcome him, lightly sucking on the intrusion, drinking in his flavor.

The kiss slows and breaks. He nestles his head in the crook of your neck. You can feel the wash of warm and cool air as he breathes.

You close your eyes and think about the last few minutes. Then further back. You think about every time you’ve had him, and every time you have not.

You hunger for this man in a way you have no other being. He’s as much a part of you as your own limbs are.

But you can’t ignore the hollowness in every interaction with him anymore. It’s choking you both. You love him too much to let this go on any longer.

There was a big difference between wishing and knowing something. You know too well now that wishes can’t sustain you much longer.

Soft pressure meets your neck.

“I can hear you thinking,” he sleepily slurs. “Shut up.”

You chuckle. It’s genuine.

“Sorry.”

You drop a kiss on his head and relax into his familiar embrace.

Maybe not yet.

Just one more night.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Kaidan had always thought he and Shepard would live happily ever after.

They’d saved the universe, damn it. There were no more wars to fight.  _ ‘Unpresidented Galactic Peace,’  _ the headlines had read. He probably still has a few saved on his omni-tool. Kaidan used to save every image of John he came across.

He wonders when he stopped.

Shepard shifts on the bed, drawing Kaidan’s attention. His heart swells with affection. They’d been through hell together. Not even death had been enough to break their bond. He’d really thought it was invincible.

He’s not so sure anymore.

John rolls around to face him. He smiles. Crows feet appear at the corners of his eyes and it tugs on Kaidan’s heartstrings. Shepard is just as handsome as the day he met him. Maybe moreso. Time has not softened his physique. Soldier™ is too strong in his blood to let himself go.

Kaidan aches to touch him, so he does.

His cheek where Kaidan’s palm cups it is warm. He’s never run quite as hot as Kaidan, but always warm. He’d only felt Shepard be cold once—in the hospital after he was recovered from the wreckage of the Citadel. He didn’t touch him again until he woke up. Until he was warm again.

Kaidan sees the moment Shepard really wakes up. The smile slips from his lips and the light drains from his eyes, leaving something somber and contemplative in its wake.

Kaidan feels like a slab of rock has been laid on his chest.

He strokes John’s cheek with his thumb and strains to move the invisible weight compressing his lungs in order to sit up and kiss him. His lips are warm and pliant. That never changed, at least. Kaidan could get lost here, if he let himself. But he isn’t quite retired yet, and he has a meeting with Counselor Hackett in an hour.

Kaidan doesn’t meet Shepard’s eyes as he pulls away.

∆

He gets through the day. Work is a good distraction from the thoughts buzzing at the back of his brain. It isn’t until he’s home for the evening and halfway through a meal that he’s shuffled around more than eaten that Kaidan starts thinking about it again.

“Are you okay, Kaidan?” The affectionate concern warming John’s voice is almost too much for him.

“Yeah, just—” He couldn’t say he wasn’t hungry. He was always hungry, and John knew it. “—my head hurts.”

It wasn’t a lie. His head is on fire.

He wishes it was a migraine.

John’s brow furrows. It twists Kaidan’s stomach. He’s reminded of why he’s been thinking of leaving.

The slipping smiles and stilted laughter. The stale familiarity of routine. The glances that speak volumes their lips cannot.

It isn’t fair to Shepard. It isn’t fair to  _ him _ .

But he  _ loves him. _

He remembers what it was like to live without him. Kaidan stopped breathing when John did, and he didn’t start again until he saw him on Horizon. He took a deep breath and spewed out venom.

Things haven’t been that bad in a long time. But  _ not bad _ didn’t make  _ good. _

“Do you want to go lay down?”

“I think I’ll take a shower.”

His frown deepens. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, wilco,” Kaidan attempts half-hearted humor. It turns Shepard’s lips up for a fraction of a moment.

Then it’s gone.

Kaidan stands up and scrapes his uneaten food into the disposal.

∆

Ice hits Kaidan’s face and slithers down his body.

“Shepard.”

His voice, barely loud enough to hear over the water, slides into a different octave and he has to clear his throat and try again, voice too low to compensate:

“Shepard.”

He could have laughed at himself for sounding like Wrex, had he been practicing any other speech. Instead, the words seem to stall there. Kaidan reaches for the temperature gauge to give his hands something to do, but finds it already on the lowest setting. He sticks his face back in the spray and rubs his palms across swollen eyelids. If he can’t say it to himself, he’ll never be able to say it to Shepard.

“I think I should leave.”

He can imagine the perplexed expression Shepard will give him.

“You’re not happy. I want the best for you, and… and I just don’t think I’m it anymore.”

His breath stutters and hitches through the sentence, not helped by the cold that has finally subdued his natural heat and chilled his bones.

Kaidan can see the look of crushing hurt in John’s eyes, so much worse than Horizon.

He’s shaking.

Kaidan relents and turns the temperature up.

∆

Once, Kaidan asked Shepard’s mom how she knew things were over with John’s father. She said when a relationship has run its course, you just know. He hadn’t understood what she meant at the time. He wishes he didn’t know now.

It’s not a good time. It’s never a good time. Kaidan always finds an excuse. He has to stop that. Fast and brutal. Like ripping off the piece of ship that accidentally got glued to his fingers when he helped John with his models.

He’s servicing his favorite weapon. Kaidan quietly watches his hands work, so steady and sure. Just like he does everything. With intent and absolute confidence. Those fingers have taken him apart countless times.

He’ll have to do this when Shepard is too far to touch him. If he does, he will lose every ounce of strength to see this through.

“Shepard...” The word starts out strong and dies halfway out. His head turns. His eyes lock onto Kaidan. Kaidan’s chest burns.

He doesn’t say anything.

John’s eyebrows wrinkle. “Is everything okay?”

_ No _ . The word hovers in Kaidan’s throat, ready to be propelled into existence.

It feels like the world is holding its breath. It’s probably just Kaidan.

He exhales.

“Yeah. Sorry. Forgot what I was going to say.”

Shepard looks at him skeptically. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Peachy-keen.”

He smiles at Kaidan and turns back to his gun.

Guilt claws its way through Kaidan’s insides.

He needs to make up his damn mind.

∆

_ ”Fuck,”  _ he gasps, collapsing against Kaidan.

Warm lips envelop his own. Kaidan hums against them, still tingling and loose from head to toe. The wet tip of a tongue breaches the seam of his lips and he welcomes him, lightly sucking on the intrusion, drinking in John’s flavor.

The kiss slows and breaks. He nestles his head in the crook of Kaidan’s neck. He can feel the wash of warm and cool air as John breathes.

Kaidan closes his eyes and thinks about the last few minutes. Then further back. He thinks about every time he’s had him, and every time he has not.

He hungers for Shepard in a way he has no other being. He’s as much of a part of Kaidan as his own limbs are.

But he can’t ignore the hollowness in every interaction with him anymore. It’s choking them both.

Kaidan loves him too much to let this go on any longer.

There was a big difference between wishing and knowing something. He knows too well now that wishes can’t sustain them much longer.

Soft pressure meets his neck.

“I can hear you thinking,” he sleepily slurs. “Shut up.”

Kaidan chuckles. It’s genuine.

“Sorry.”

Kaidan drops a kiss on John’s head and relaxes into his familiar embrace.

Maybe not yet.

Maybe he’d give it just one more night.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me here or on my [Tumblr](http://resmiranda13.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Please let me know if you catch any typos!


End file.
